


Wizards are only make-believe.. but still.

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drabble, FrUK, M/M, mostly me rambling, nerdy england is nerdy, very short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 22:44:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3913435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As France listens to England ramble on about Harry Potter, he wonders when this love for anything magical began. After a very short answer France is still left with the why.</p>
<p>(Bad summary is bad)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wizards are only make-believe.. but still.

"See the common misunderstanding is that Harry died one hundred percent because he only died about eighty percent as-" Oh how cute he was. France loved how he was able to indulge in this cuteness when it was just the two of them. After all England never went on like this in public.  
But that was partly his fault.  
Always saying things like "God England just shut up about it, you're a grown man so act like it!" or "England just stop your pointless blabbering about things that arn't real and focus on reality for once!" He always winced at the thought of England's expression when he said something extremely harsh. How whatever little bit of light in his eyes would disappear and his smile would falter. France looked up at his little angel. Right now his eyes were so bright, his smile so wide, his face so beautiful.  
France always wondered why he was happiest talking about such things. How he would skip out on meetings to catch up on Doctor Who, or how he stayed walled up in his room for two weeks after the last Harry Potter movie. How he would cry every time one Doctor left, how he could barely sit still when filming for the Hobbit was anounced. To France it seemed to be part of an entirely different world. He still wondered when it all started. Only one way to find out.  
"England?"  
"What is it, love?" England asked.  
France blushed slightly. He loved England's pet names for him like dear and love. But he would never admit it, just like England would never admit to calling him such things.  
"Just wondering, when did your love for the fantasy world begin?" France asked, sipping his wine and acting like he hadn't been thinking about it the entire day. England leaned back into the armchair.  
"Well it's slightly hard to remember as most of my early memories are of me either listening or talking about such things. But I think it started when Ireland would tell me stories about fairies and magic", England said staring out the window as if looking past the fields of crops and at something in the distance. " Crap is that the time? Sorry France I have to go now or else I'll be late for my meeting with America and Canada. See you in a bit ", as he grabbed his jacket he gently kissed France on the head.  
" Okay mon cher, au revoir! " France called out after him. He sighed.  
"They were once so close ", France remarked to the empty room. It was barely a century ago when Ireland and England couldn't be in the same room as each other. If they were it would always end with them yelling at the other before both of them storming out of the room angrily. No matter what France did the fighting would have never reached that level of pure spite and hatred. Even when America was in the process of getting his freedom, England never got that angry. I guess the closer they are the more it hurts, France thought.  
Still, things were better than before. France smiled. He could imagine the picture. A very small England sitting on a child Ireland's lap, leaning against a tree while Ireland told him all these legends and stories. France smiled and took a sip of his wine. Maybe the answer would come to him later.

 

It was 3:20 and France was still wide awake. He just had sex with England and yet he couldn't get that question out of his head. Why was is so important anyway? He remembered when he didn't give a damn about England and hated him with a burning passion. Come to think of it, it was probably the happiest part of England's life, as it was before he decided to start taking away everyone else's land and claiming it as his own. France sprang upright in the bed and whispered " Of course!"  
"Wut'se matter?" England asked, half asleep.  
France smiled down at him and whispered "Nothing my sweet, go back to sleep."  
He then bent down and kissed England on the nose. England smiled and fell asleep almost instantly.  
France lay down beside him and watched his beloved sleep. So cute, so innocent. The answer was so simple. But he knew that England would deny it even in Hell.

It must be sad, to wish for times gone by, before your brothers hated you. Maybe that's why he loved the world of fairies and magic so much.

**Author's Note:**

> Congratulations for making it to the end of my rambling. Please point out any spelling or grammatical mistakes you see so I can fix them. Also please leave a kudos if you like. Hoped you enjoyed!


End file.
